


Inches and Degrees

by honeypuffed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuffed/pseuds/honeypuffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has been out in the cold all day; Grantaire has warmth to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inches and Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt at the meme.

Enjolras is looking thoroughly windswept when he enters the Musain one afternoon. There's been dreadful weather of late, but only Enjolras would insist on standing out it in for hours, making speeches, rallying the public.

"Even in such weather, the people come to listen. My friends, our cause is- is--" Enjolras stutters. "What are you doing?"

Grantaire has crept up behind him to place his hands on Enjolras' cheeks. "You are nearly frozen," he says over Enjolras' shoulder.

"And you are burning hot," Enjolras replies, disapproving because he already knows why.

"Ah, yes, I was sat by the fire a long while with a fine bottle of brandy. Some still remains, if you'd like?"

Enjolras twists away from him, and Grantaire's hands fall back to his side, unwanted.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs.

But when Enjolras takes a seat, Grantaire notices him faintly shivering, so he drags a chair right up next to him and drapes his arm over Enjolras' shoulders. Before Enjolras can protest again, Grantaire has both hands on Enjolras' upper arms, attempting to work some warmth back into them.

"I can feel your skin cold even through your jacket," he comments, frowning. "You can't die on us just yet, Apollo." Grantaire is usually rather adept at feigning lightheartedness, but he misses the mark on this one, and his tone is much too heavy.

Enjolras looks like he wants to say something, but he decides against it and allows Grantaire to rub up and down his arms. It's only when Grantaire's hands come up to his neck that he tries to shrug him off again.

"Oh sit still, princess," Grantaire laughs, pressing a weight down on his shoulders, then when he's satisfied Enjolras isn't going anywhere, he wraps hands around his neck, radiating warmth.

They sit comfortably for a few minutes, and Grantaire is content to listen to Enjolras ramble on about the revolution without cutting in to argue this time. Though he can't stop himself from eventually running his thumb through the short hair at the base of Enjolras' skull, at which Enjolras first shivers (a delightful sight to behold), then he roughly pushes Grantaire away.

As he does however, Grantaire clasps Enjolras' hands between his. "Almost as icy as your heart," he sing-songs.

Enjolras fixes him with a terrible glare.

"No, my mistake. Your heart does burn, but only for France. How difficult it must be for those who love you!" Grantaire laughs and rubs his hands over Enjolras', feeling them slowly warm.

Enjolras' glare softens into a look that Grantaire is none too familiar with, and says quietly, "Thank you, Grantaire."

Grantaire isn't really sure how to take it, so he simply ignores the heavy thumping of his heart and says, "You're welcome."


End file.
